16. The Shape of You

CHAPTER 16

THE SHAPE OF YOU

ABBI

Braced in Weston’s strong arms, his taste on my tongue, I’m flooded with several conflicting sensations at once. His chest is warm and solid against mine. His kiss is bossy and loving. Lord knows that nobody ever holds me. I haven’t felt so protected in a very long time.

God, I’m such a girl. But this man just threatened Price for me. If that’s not sexy, I don’t know what is.

Making a hungry noise, Weston changes the angle of his kiss and then plunders my mouth again. And wow—I didn’t know you could feel utterly safe and still super excited at the same time. But here we are. I have no idea what he’ll do next, but I already know I’ll like it.

“Abbi,” he whispers against my mouth. “Did you feel it? On Christmas Eve? I was so hard for you I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to roll over and pull you underneath me.”

“Oh,” is all I can think to say. But that sounds wonderful. Threading my hands into his hair, I kiss him again to show that I agree.

“I need to know,” he growls. “Was it just me that night?”

“No,” I whisper, licking into his mouth again. I can’t believe I’m making out against my door with Weston. Finally .

“Did you get hot for me?” His deep voice rumbles in my ear. “Did you get wet? ”

“Yes,” I admit, as the same thing happens again.

He groans. “Yesterday morning I woke up thinking about you. Had to fuck my hand in the shower just to calm down.”

Whew . Is it hot in here? “W-why did we wait so long?”

“Because our lives are complicated. But Abbi—now I’m taking you to bed . So if that’s not what you want, you gotta speak up right now.”

“Yes. Fine. Good.”

I sound like a dingus, but Weston doesn’t care. He lets out a horny groan and then lifts me off the wall to do exactly what he’d said he would do—he carries me across my small apartment and deposits me on the bed. “I’m going to need you naked.”

“Yessir.”

Peeling off his jacket, he grunts. “Feel free to say that often. Did you happen to notice that your apartment is cold?”

“Is it?” I toss my jacket aside and kick off my shoes. I don’t want to talk about my stupid apartment. I want to get back to the part where he’s murmuring dirty words in my ear.

He unbuttons his shirt. And holy Toledo, I get my first full view of the vines tattooed across his chest. They’re beautiful. He’s beautiful. No wonder there’s a line of women around table seventeen every time the hockey team racks up a win.

“You’re staring,” he says with a chuckle.

“Sorry.” I avert my eyes.

“No—look all you want. But can you take off your clothes while you’re doing it?” He steps closer to me, grips my Biscuit uniform shirt and lifts it over my head. “Now we’re talking.”

Could he be any sexier? From his rippling abs to his chatty, no-nonsense approach to sex, Weston is making me crazy. I find myself staring up at his bare chest again, at those abs that are now prickled with goose bumps. “You’re cold,” I say softly.

“Abbi, it’s like the Polar Vortex in here. Get under the covers with me. I’ll keep us both warm.”

Now that’s an excellent plan. I hop off the bed and turn down the covers, including the down comforter I had to buy when I realized that the landlady was never going to turn up the heat .

Weston doesn’t waste any more time, either. I hear the sound of a zipper’s metal teeth as he sheds his jeans. I turn away to undo the hook on my skirt, so I miss the view of Weston’s naked body sliding into my bed. By the time I step out of my skirt, he’s already covered himself.

Still—here’s a sight I never thought I’d see—Weston Griggs in my bed, his hands folded behind his head, biceps flexing on my pillow.

Pinch me.

His eyes are smiling up at me. “Get in here before you freeze. Right here, baby.” He lifts one side of the covers. Still wearing my bra and panties, I slip into the bed beside him.

Weston turns and rolls until he’s spread out above me, his warm body pressing me against the mattress. And—hello—there’s a very hefty erection pressed against my thigh.

Holy heck. This just got real.

“Now this is where I wanted you on Christmas Eve, Abbi. And on Thanksgiving, and New Year’s. And every night in between.” He strokes a thumb across my cheekbone. “We are going to have all the sex.”

I giggle nervously. It’s been a while for me. My life is too chaotic for fun and hookups.

And Weston is a player. Even though I haven’t seen him pick up anyone in the bar in a while, I know how much he likes women. I hope he isn’t expecting me to be a sex goddess or something. I hope I don’t smell like chicken wings and beer. And—wait—did I shave my legs today? At least these sheets are clean.

“Hey. Abbi,” he whispers, kissing the bridge of my nose. “Where did you go just now?”

“I’m here!” I say breathlessly. “We were just about to have all the sex—“ I actually bite my tongue in an effort to stop rambling. Ow. “Sorry. Just a brief moment of performance anxiety.”

“Do we have to sing it out?” His pretty eyes smile down at me. “Should I cue up a song on my phone?”

“What?” I snort in an unsexy way. “No! Oh my God.”

“Hang on. Maybe I’m on to something.” He grins. “Which song would be most appropriate for this? How about ‘Shape of You’ by Ed Sheeran? It’s about a bar hookup. I don’t know if I can sing that high, though.”

“Weston!” I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing in his face.

“There’s always the classic—‘Let’s Get it On.’” Weston props himself up on an elbow and looks thoughtful. “Or Bruce singing ‘I’m on Fire.’ But I think I prefer The Kinks. ‘You Really Got Me’ speaks the truth. Because I can’t sleep at night, either.”

I blink up into his handsome face, and wonder if he’s even serious. Then he puts those sexy lips together and slowly hums the Kinks’ guitar riff. And I forget that he’s making a joke as that sexy mouth descends to the swell of my breast, tracing my curves very slowly, his hum vibrating across my skin.

Whoa . Now I’ve got goose bumps, and not because of the cold. As he teases my breast, I forget to be nervous. I even forget to breathe. The tickle and scrape. The heat of his mouth…

Wow.

My bra is in the way, though. Reaching back, I unhook that sucker.

“Good girl,” Weston breathes. He grabs the bra and tosses it away. “Fuck, Abbi.” He brings one roughened hand to my breast and gives me a gentle squeeze. “So pretty.” Then he lowers his mouth to my nipple, glancing up at me as he extends his tongue to lap at my peak.

And I let out a hot gasp of excitement. Playful, dirty Weston does not disappoint. He closes his lips around my nipple and sucks. Then he pops off to torture the other breast. And all the while he watches me with those bright, curious eyes.

Is this real life? I feel worshipped . My hands find his muscular shoulders, and I slide my fingers all over his beautiful skin, tracing the vines of those tattoos.

But then he disappears from view, under the covers. “Weston,” I cry, my hands seeking him under the sheet. “Where did you?—?“

Two hands tug my underwear off. Then his broad hands land on my thighs, and lips begin to trace and kiss the curve of my hip bone.

Oh boy. I lift the edge of the comforter and peek, because this is too incredible to miss .

As I illuminate Weston, a muffled “ whoa” comes from under the covers. He lifts his head. “Who’s a bad girl, Abbi? Do you have a tattoo of a black lab on your thigh?”

“That’s Friendly.”

“Oh, I can be very friendly,” he says with a grin. “But who’s the dog?”

“No, I mean the dog was named Friendly. She was my first pet.“

He laughs. “Kidding, honey. I got it the first time.” He presses a palm down over my tattoo. “Don’t watch, doggo. I’m about to go down on your master.”

I moan. “The things that come out of your mouth.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you mind ‘em too much.” Weston gives me a sexy wink—an actual wink—and then he lowers his mouth to my?—

Oh God . “Oh GOD.” That tongue. He’s shameless. It’s a struggle to relax against the bed as he licks and kisses me. My toes curl, and my hips roll. It’s so good. Nobody has ever lavished so much attention on me.

Never. Ever.

I just hope I’m not too sad when it’s over.